


Remembrance

by theboynamedcrow



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, M/M, Nostalgia, the three being competitive little shits, we got beach episode, we got food, we got photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboynamedcrow/pseuds/theboynamedcrow
Summary: Ibe finds a missing picture from their trip to America, and Eiji revisits the memories from the very last summer they were allowed to be boys.-Written for the Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang 2020. Collab with @aisha_kami on Twitter.
Relationships: Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji & Shorter Wong, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 16
Kudos: 104
Collections: Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang 2020, inspired by the art of the talented Aisha Kami. Twitter: @aisha_kami / Tumblr: aishakami

Even though he was still in his mid-thirties, Ibe was an old fashioned man, and the only person Eiji knew who still sent hand-written letters on top of the text messages they exchanged once in a while.

Those letters never came alone —rather, they were always buried under a bundle of his most recent photographs; his passion projects, the kind of pictures that weren’t really marketable but held a special flare; the kind that he would spend the time and care to shoot with a film camera and patiently develop. Those were Eiji’s favorites. The letters served as a summary, a recap of how every picture came to be, the untold stories of the subject, if they were people; or the travel anecdotes that led him to stumble upon beautiful landscapes.

Eiji thought the explanation wasn’t needed. His mentor’s pictures were so expressive they usually told a story themselves, and everything else was confetti. Of course, he would never tell Ibe that. He liked those stories, enjoyed reading about anecdotes that didn’t involve kidnappings or shootings or death.

The package this time was uncharacteristically thin, so much so that it couldn’t be called a package at all, more like an envelope. Inside, there was a sheet of paper cut in half with Ibe’s delicate calligraphy. There were no lengthy anecdotes about road trips or composition and lighting, only a brief message:

_Hello, Eiji. I hope you’re doing well. I was sorting through my old negatives and I found this picture. I must have missed it when I sent you all the prints from our trip to America back then, so I developed it for you. I know it’s a difficult subject, but I thought you should have it._

_Take care,_

_Shunichi Ibe._

Eiji put the envelope down on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, not knowing how to feel about those words. It wasn’t very long ago that he had the courage to look at Ash’s pictures again after eight years, and even though he felt like he was finally starting to heal, like he could think about Ash and feel things other than sorrow and overwhelming grief; he still had to prepare himself for whatever emotions might come crawling back to the surface. It was a good thing that Sing wasn’t home today. It made things easier, at least this one in particular.

After taking a deep breath, Eiji pulled out the picture. He felt a pointed tug in his heart as the memories flooded him, so clear it was almost like he was right there, nineteen years old and still soft around the edges. The way he smiled gave it away.

No matter how many times Eiji looked at their old pictures, it always stuck out to him how young they had been when it all took place. They were barely kids, out into the streets fighting tooth and nails against something much bigger than themselves. It was insane.

None of that made it to their photographs, of course. He was grateful for it. Their Cape Cod pictures immortalized a moment in time he always found himself looking back to, the cheerful atmosphere of the image only dulled by the awareness that two out of three people in it were gone.

It got Eiji to smile fondly, anyways. Ash, Shorter and him sat on the same side of one of those wooden tables behind some food trucks, sharing a greasy American meal. Clearly a candid picture, with how none of them were looking at the camera and Ash didn’t bother hiding his almost comical disapproval at the disproportionately huge burger, while Shorter belly laughed, expressive as ever even behind his shades.

Eiji understood why Ibe’s letter had been so brief this time, why he had refrained from backing it up with prose. _This is your story to tell_ , he seemed to be saying.

-

The salty smell of fish filled the small cottage as Eiji carefully turned it over on the pan, and the crisp sizzling noise came like music to his ears. After a few days in Cape Cod, they had collectively decided they shouldn’t abuse Jennifer’s hospitality, and so they’d stocked up on groceries to make their own meals, taking turns in the kitchen. Ash had immediately called it quits, while Eiji and Shorter argued over who’d get to show off their cooking skills first. The dispute had been settled by Ash flipping a quarter after they chose heads or tails respectively.

Shorter won the first round, earning them a strange concoction of Chinese and American food that was a little too spicy, a little too sour, and had been classified by Ash as ‘the beginning of the end of Chang Dai’.

Today was Eiji’s turn, and he was determined to reign victorious in their unspoken cooking competition as he cut the tofu into perfectly square pieces and added them to the miso soup, each spice thoroughly measured, sprinkled with intent and care.

The playful match with Shorter, in reality, only played a small part on his stubbornness. Cooking had been a love language in Eiji’s household growing up, and while his little sister refused to pick up on their mother’s recipes, Eiji would often find himself looking up from his comic books, ushered by the delicious smell of a home cooked meal, propping himself up on his toes to peer over the stove.

His mother would lift him up and let him sit on the counter, giving him small tasks like watching over the rice or stirring the soup. Once he became old enough, he started adding his own touch to the family recipes. It became quality time with his mom, anxious about her kids growing up too fast; sometimes it served as a truce in the form of shrimp tempura after fighting with his sister; and others, a way to communicate with his taciturn father.

Their very first interaction with Jim Callenreese made it very clear that Ash’s upbringing hadn’t been nearly as colorful, the man’s words sharp as daggers still dancing in his memory. It made Eiji angry, and in turn, even more convinced that Ash deserved to feel cared for.

Shorter had a sister, probably —no, certainly— more proficient in the kitchen than Eiji would ever be. Ash _used_ to have a brother, most likely a kid himself back when they lived together where he’s currently standing. The former had a quirky taste in food, and the latter… Well, he didn’t know what Ash liked. The boy didn’t seem like the type to have a big appetite.

His lips curved into a smile as he imagined a young Ash being picky with his greens. Perhaps teenage Griffin would make him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches instead. Maybe he’d appreciate a simple thing like that more, and Eiji’s foreign, elaborate cooking would feel over the top and out of place.

Before he could continue distressing over it, a head of messy blond hair peeked into the kitchen, sleepiness still clinging to his eyes, frowning at the morning light that filtered through the windows.

The image endeared Eiji greatly. It reinforced his belief that Ash was hugely misunderstood —people around him talked about Ash Lynx like some sort of mythical beast, dangerous and unreachable; but those people hadn’t seen this Ash. The one who could be capricious and grumpy in the mornings like any other kid. It was a shot in the dark, but it made Eiji hopeful that they were not so different, after all; that this seaside town had opened a small window for them to coexist in the same world.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Ash asked, running a hand through his disheveled hair as if he had suddenly become aware of it. It took that question for Eiji to realize he’d been staring.

“Did I wake you?” Eiji dodged the subject, turning the fish one last time before putting out the stove.

Ash made some guttural noise that Eiji couldn’t decide whether it meant yes or no, and slumped on the nearest chair. “What are you cooking at this hour, anyways? It smells like a fish market in here.”

“Traditional Japanese breakfast!” He declared, promptly presenting the dish to Ash. The boy squinted at it cautiously, as if he was expecting the fish to come back to life and slap him any second.

Ash’s frown intensified; the round, lifeless mackerel eye drilling holes into his soul. “It’s staring at me…”

Eiji was unsure whether he wanted to take offense or laugh. He went with the latter. “Big, tough Ash Lynx is scared of fish?”

The teasing made him pout, which Eiji took as a win. Ash grabbed the fork and non-ceremoniously stabbed the mackerel, expertly separating the meat from the spine. “I just don’t like my own food judging me, thanks.”

Soon after, Shorter was leaning on the door frame, his nose perking up as he sniffed.

“Oh sweet! Fish!” He didn’t wait for Eiji’s cue before he helped himself to some.

“See? At least _someone_ in this house appreciates my efforts.”

“Shorter would eat anything that moves.”

“Hey! That’s not true!” Shorted protested, fist firmly pressed against his chest. “Believe it or not, I’m a man of taste. Chang Dai’s star apprentice, baby.”

“I doubt taste-tasting Nadia’s hotpot counts as apprenticeship.”

The back and forth continued as they ate, the topic drifting to stories from Ash and Shorter’s younger years, to weirdly specific martial art movies and Japanese legends Eiji had been told as cautionary tales for rowdy children. By the end of it, all three plates were empty. It was a good morning.

Later that day, Max had declared the truck’s battery dead, and Ibe offered himself to go to town for a replacement, the Pentax hanging from his neck giving away the true motivations behind his altruism.

Eiji couldn’t blame him for wanting to get away for a while. There was something special about this place, but as good as it had been to take a breather from all the violence and chaos, he understood that for Ash, this town was haunted; traces of his childhood creeping back in the form of Griffin’s old letters and the framed picture of a smiling, mundane child. He wanted to believe that Ash could still fondly look back at some of those ghosts, but the way he conducted himself with calculated detachment, showing neither nostalgia nor distress, told a different story.

Shorter, eager for any sort of distraction, wanted to tag along, and both Ash and Eiji got dragged into it as well, leaving Max to work on the more salvageable parts of the truck in the meantime. Shorter wanted to explore the beach, so they agreed to split and meet Ibe again by lunchtime at some popular street food spot near the sea.

If Ash was bothered by revisiting downtown, he didn’t show it. Instead, he guided them away from the busier streets and down the paths that weren’t as popular with tourists, but had more personality. The closest main beach was never too far from sight, but Ash insisted in a less crowded place. After crossing a patch of tall grass there was a small bay, the lack of yachts or swimmers making the sea appear beautiful and imposing —kind of like Ash himself.

They left their shoes by some rocks and allowed their feet to sink into the soft, warm sand. The three sat by the shore, Shorter immediately laying down with his hands behind his head, basking under the sunlight —Eiji wondered if he should remind him to take off his shades, lest he get a horrible tan. When he did, Shorter just shrugged, too relaxed to care.

Ash remained seated, his eyes lost somewhere Eiji couldn’t grasp as the waves gently washed over his feet. Even if he claimed to not have any feelings about it, there was clearly something holding his heart hostage, pulling him along with the tide.

Eiji sat up and walked away from the shore near where their shoes had been discarded. He came back cradling a handful of rocks. Neither Ash nor Shorter seemed to have noticed until he swung his arm to throw one of them, making it bounce gracefully at least five times over the water until it sank to the bottom before the sixth.

That seemed to finally bring Ash back to the present, his expression shifting from distant to impressed. Shorter sat up, whistling in delight.

“Where’d you learn that?” Ash asked, his widened green eyes sending a wave of pride to Eiji.

“I grew up in the sea too.” Something in the way he worded that made Ash smile, the gesture so genuine that Eiji felt self-conscious, and so he quickly elaborated. “Me and my sister bet on who could make it bounce longer.”

“A beach town, huh?” Ash mused, “do you miss it?”

 _Did_ he miss it? Eiji liked his hometown well enough, but it was difficult to explain with enough nuance that there wasn’t any other place he’d rather be right now, that there was nothing waiting for him back in Izumo.

“It is a bit boring,” he answered instead.

“Guess beach towns are all the same, no matter which country. Huge sandboxes with nothing to do.” Ash said, standing up next to Eiji. He gestured at the pile of rocks in his palm. “Let me try.” Eiji nodded, extending his hand.

Ash took a smooth rock and tossed it in a straight line. It bounced two times before sinking. He clicked his tongue, and Eiji grinned. “Again.”

“I’ll give it a try too!” Shorter declared, also getting on his feet to grab a rock. “Whoever makes it bounce less times buys lunch.”

Ash quirked an eyebrow. “When did this become a competition?”

“Just making it more interesting, man. Besides, my stomach’s growling already.” Shorter explained, playfully elbowing his friend. “Afraid to lose?”

“In your dreams.” Ash replied with a grin, then turned to Eiji. “What do you say, Eiji?”

Eiji’s lips curved. “I want hotdog.”

“Shrimp salad for me,” Ash added in complicity, already throwing and catching another rock in his palm, waiting for his turn. Shorter grimaced and picked a flat looking rock.

“Hey, hey, just watch and learn. I’ll humble you two real fast!”

In the end, Shorter had been the one ‘humbled’, landing third place with Ash following second and Eiji winning the match. By the time they arrived the agreed meeting spot, they smelled of sea salt and the cuffs of their jeans were soaked, sprinkled with sand down to their shoes.

They found Ibe in one of the tables sipping on a large soda, the new battery and his camera placed by his side. Eiji waved to him, letting him know they’d be touring the food trucks first. Despite the amount of businesses, there wasn’t much in terms of variety. Sea food and typical diner dishes were pretty much the only options. They stopped for Eiji’s hotdog first.

“Dude, this is so unfair,” Shorter complained, messing with his mohawk in frustration and letting out an exaggerated sigh. They all knew he wasn’t really sore about it, but overplaying it for the sake of entertainment. Shorter wasn’t the kind of guy to take himself too seriously, and so there was rarely a dull moment around him. “Eiji here’s been practicing since he was a little punk, he shouldn’t count.”

“And who’s idea was it?” Ash countered, bumping fists with Eiji as their friend payed for the food.

While discussing the possibility of a rematch, they stumbled upon a burger truck. Eiji thought everything in America was unnecessarily large, but the pictures displayed on the menu were on anther league entirely.

“Two large double cheese burgers please,” Shorter told the cook, raising two fingers.

Ash’s eyes widened. “The hell? I’m not having that.”

“Look, if I’m paying, we’re getting real food, not some flimsy salad. And I doubt they even have that around here.”

Eiji could only be relieved that he hadn’t shared Ash’s fate.

“Tell you what, let’s make this our rematch. See who can finish it first.” Shorter proposed.

“What about Eiji here?” Ash asked. Eiji gave him a look of utter betrayal, but recovered quickly.

“I will be the impartial judge.” He declared.

“So much for impartial,” Shorter muttered under his breath, and Ash smiled next to him. Eiji blinked, feeling like he’d missed a cue in the exchange. “Well, there you have it. Are you in?”

Sighing, Ash turned back to the counter. “Don’t hold back on those patties, pops.”

The cook, a chipper old man, was happy to comply with such lively customers, and soon the three were sitting in front of Ibe, who wasn’t subtle in the way his jaw dropped.

“You guys must really be hungry,” he commented.

“Blame him.” Ash pointed his thumb at Shorter, who looked far from remorseful. Staring down at his meal, Ash grunted in a way that inspired the same kind of affection Eiji had felt that morning. “This is the size of my head.”

“No take backs now!” Shorter warned. “Dude,” he addressed Ibe, “you should take a picture of this. I’ll frame and hang it on the Chang Dai, as a memento of kicking Ash’s ass.”

“Or, you know, the opposite,” Ash said, although not as confident as he’d been during their first competition. “So we can look back at your regrets in like, ten years when you go bald for good.”

Shorter’s hearty laugh almost managed to drown the sound of the shutter.

In hindsight, that was probably the first of Ibe’s pictures in which Ash had let himself so unguarded in front of a camera. Later, there would be many more, and Eiji would take his own. Almost a decade later, he understood why it had taken Ash a while to warm up to it, and that added to the picture’s value —it was a miracle that such thing could be captured in the first place. A moment of stillness and innocence, the last summer they were allowed to be boys.

Eiji had spent almost his whole twenties trying to drown those memories. The painful moments were always the most vivid, and he was too afraid to ruminate on the good ones, cautious of spiraling into regret.

Before he decided to look at the albums again, Eiji thought remembrance would only bring him pain, but he was wrong. Pictures like this one allowed him to revisit the times he treasured the most, to remember Ash and Shorter the way they deserved, the way they really were, in a time and place where they could tease each other about growing old. In a world they all shared.

Closing his eyes, he let himself recall the roar of the sea.


End file.
